Mother Fox
by palomino333
Summary: He knows even he can't protect Scout forever. She knows it, too. A long-distance conversation between two troubled people.


Wrote this during a trip to the Caribbean. I support the theory that RED Spy is BLU Scout's father. It's interesting, and cute in a sense.

Dominique is a unisex name. I picked it because at times Spy can be somewhat effeminite when it comes to his suit.

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><p>Secret. For such a small, overused word, its power was alarming. It made honest men liars, meek men bold, and good men evil. The mere sounds of its syllables caused virgin hearts to beat fast, and curious eyes to stretch wide. Spy was no stranger to the fire this word held. It was his life. Many a time he turned withheld information on his enemies in order to make them burn. He relished those with a laugh and vicious taunt. There were differing occasions, however, when the flames consumed him instead. He suffered them with the utmost agony. It was a sharp, tearing sensation on the inside that could never be fully expressed by any amount of pained screams. A secret was a double-edged sword, and he enjoyed living on that blade.<p>

He invited that fiery entity in during quiet nights. Tonight was one of those such nights. The RED team, for the most part, at least, had retired after celebrating a victorious battle. Those that remained awake were too intoxicated to think of anything worth discussing outside of the realm of slurred speech. Spy had gone to his quarters early after declaring that the day had thoroughly worn him out. Given the fact that he had spent it sending off quite a number of sentries, all the while tangling with the BLU team's vengeful Engineer, as well as his elusive rival Spy, he was easily believed.

Even so, Spy kept the door in the corner of his vision as he made his contact. His heart beat in quick tandem as he waited for an answer. His free hand gripped the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white. Not that he was paying that detail any mind, of course. His excitement was overwhelming as he pressed his ear close to the receiver. His lips moved, but no noise escaped them. Their harried motion silently and repeatedly formed the words: "Pick up, pick up!"

At last, a crackling sound was heard on the other end. "Sorry, dear! The coffee pot spilled all over me while I was trying to answer you!"

In spite of himself, Spy leaned his full weight against the desk in relaxation, his fingers letting it go. "Are you all right, ma cher?" As relieved as he was that it was only a mundane issue that had prevented his companion from answering right away, he was still concerned for her safety.

"Oh, just wonderful, save for the fact that my perfectly good dress is ruined."

Spy tsked his tongue as his free hand toyed with his butterfly knife, which was lying nearby. He lazily looked down at it as he replied, "Whatever shall I do with you?"

She chuckled softly, as if conspiring with him. "It's a shame you're not here. You could help me clean up."

A finger lifted off the knife slightly, and Spy smirked. "Do go on," he purred.

A gasp of mock shock answered him. "Did I hear you right? You're willing to neglect the well-being of your finely pressed, beautifully tailored suit in order to help little old me?"

"You forget, my dear, I would not have to be wearing it," Spy drawled. To prove his point, although she couldn't see the action, he carefully undid his tie, and slid if off from around his neck to lay it on the surface beneath him.

A gentle lull in words followed after that, only to be broken by her replying in a dreamy tone, "I'm a married woman."

His finger traced aimless patterns on his knife as he soothed, "When has that stopped us?"

She sighed. "Pity. That should be when you take me in your arms, and kiss me."

One end of Spy's mouth curled up. "Without your flimsy garment, oui?"

Her returning smile was heard in her tone. "If only, if only, Dominique." Pleasure shot an electric current through him. His head lolled slightly in his giddy state. She held so much power in calling him by his real name. Such intimacy with a man that kept his personal life so shrouded…Forbidden couldn't even begin to cover it.

Spy struck back at her playfully as his free hand loosened his collar. "That is where you are wrong, Hannah." The exchanging of names set the wave of memories in motion. It was like a chain reaction in his mind'. A kiss in the rain...The flashes of gunfire...A toast to the death of a tyrant...Creeping shadows...Whispered words...Binding rope...Freedom...A guiding hand...Revenge...A celebration...A soft bed...Those were the days. She saw it, too. They remained in their nostalgic states for quite some time, with their breathing providing a soft background noise.

Finally, she asked, "How am I wrong?"

"I shall be seeing you soon, ma cher," he whispered.

It was like an unexpected caress to her. Nice, but nervous-making all the same. "Already? I thought—"

"I have proved myself worthy of a reward, at least so my superiors say." His hollow attempt at modesty was gutted out by his self-satisfied tone.

She was ecstatic. "That's wonderful! When will it be?"

"In two weeks, I believe. Or perhaps three. Time does not stay with me!" He cried out in a false rendition of sadness.

She caught it. "Woe is you!" The two laughed heartily, and it receded too soon. Spy grimaced at the cold other side of this sunny news that he had to share.

"Oliver is faring well. He grows more and more warrior-like with each passing day," after a slight pause, Spy added, "not the little rabbit he was before, but still just as spry."

A weary voice replied, "What will we do?" That question was appearing more and more frequently in their conversations. He never could think of a perfect answer, and she knew it. Even when Oliver's guardian angel would be gone, he would be needed. That had to change, but it would be hard, oh so hard.

Spy gripped the receiver tightly as his eyes began to burn. "Stay with me, ma petite." She didn't cry. She never did, but he knew she was bleeding inside like he was. Oliver was far from their first son, but it didn't make him any less important to them.

"I'll be glad to see you soon. We need to really talk. This isn't enough."

Spy nodded. "Certainly."

"But at the same time, I wish you weren't coming. Please, don't be angry with me. We just need more time."

He slowly slid down to the floor. His legs had bent. His head was in his hand. "I know."

In that moment, the story was replayed like a worn and much-loved tape recording. Her name had been Hannah Carlson, otherwise known as Juno. He'd been Dominique Durand, alias Fox. The 1940's had pounded his country to an oppressed pulp, and he had been a part of one of the few remaining lines of defense, even during the rule of a foreign power. Ah, the glory of espionage and resistance! Juno had been an American agent dispatched as assistance. She had worked alongside Fox and other native and foreign agents in Paris. He'd thought she'd get in the way. He was proven wrong soon enough.

The fox was trapped by a pack of wolves. He'd trusted an old friend of his, Agent Lucky, and ended up betrayed. He would have been shipped to Berlin for interrogation, had it not been for Agents Juno, Rapunzel, Paladin, and Blackjack rescuing him. He realized his love for Juno then. The blunder cost him dearly. While Juno could retire, Fox could not. More service was desired of him in order to make up for his past mistake. The RED team employed him, since World War II was finished, and the Cold War had no place for a mistake maker like him. His reputation was spoiled, and that stung his pride. His contract would expire once he had fully redeemed himself. His wife, meanwhile, had to take on the majority of raising the children herself, but Hannah never seemed to mind; in fact, she loved it. That was, until their youngest was selected to be a BLU shortly after enlisting in the Army.

"Sometimes I really want to be fighting alongside you again," she murmured half to herself. Self-loathing stabbed at Spy, but he let it go.

"Please, don't talk like that," he coaxed.

She let out a mournful sigh, and cleared her throat. "You'd think I'd be at least a little happy to hear that you're coming home."

"You did seem quite content with the thought of me peeling off your clothes," he replied sardonically as he got up.

"We're back to this again?"

"But of course!"

Somewhere under the same moon as the RED Spy, the BLU Scout was asleep, his head resting serenely on his arm. He was having quite a lovely dream of bashing some RED skulls apart as payback for the previous day.


End file.
